


Solitary Island

by Siver



Series: Final Fantasy VI/Ghost Trick [54]
Category: Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective
Genre: FFVI GT AU, Final Fantasy VI AU, Multi, Suicide Attempt, background Jowd/Alma/Cabanela
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22368196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siver/pseuds/Siver
Summary: AU of the Final Fantasy VI AU in which Jowd lands on the solitary island with Cabanela after the Floating Continent.
Series: Final Fantasy VI/Ghost Trick [54]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1169099
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because I am a ridiculous human being who can't let this island go. See series notes for context.

Cabanela ran. The strange land rumbled and cracked around him. The air was thick with wild magic and dust. The Jester’s laughter still rang loud in his ears, joyful and victorious. And familiar, but he had never sounded like _that_ , had he?

Victorious as he absorbed all of Cabanela’s magic and parried every blow and Cabanela staggered back under the sudden stabbing pain, shuddering at the feel of his own blood. Victorious while pinned between the statues and magic crackled around them. Victorious as the continent broke apart. Victorious as Cabanela made his final decision and fled.

This wasn’t a loss, he told himself. As long as they made it together this was a victory. He grated out another cure spell at the stab of damp pain in his side and leapt a newly formed gap. Just let him see that they made it; that’s all he asked.

The ground beneath him trembled. He could pretend it was only the ground that made him shake and stumble. One step, just one more and another.

A grinding sound made him look up in time to see a boulder dislodge itself and come crashing down. He flung himself forward and hit the ground. Braced himself on his hands and knees, gasping as it rolled past. Then he felt the ground shudder more violently beneath him, watched the crack form in front of his eyes and he scrambled up.

No time to look back at the sound of the ground he’d just been on falling away. No time, keep going. No time for faltering legs. _He_ was in control.

But, they had to have made it right? There was no doubt about it. Any other possibility was inconceivable. Surely the ship would be gone by now anyway. They were safely flying away and this nightmare was at an end.

He was slowing. He could make sure, make sure he wouldn’t torment them any longer. Grant them peace at last.

Then he saw them ahead, Jowd and Alma standing close together, swaying against the quaking land. He put on a greater surge of speed.

“Go!”

What were they doing here? He told them to go. He told them he’d catch up and… they waited… They waited.

The land shuddered. His foot slipped. Jowd reached out. With a last burst of strength he jumped and two sets of arms pulled him in. They turned as one and jumped.

Spots burst in front of Cabanela’s eyes at the jarring impact. He clung to Jowd, dizzy with pain and relief, nearly sobbing for air. They were here, they made it, they were here. He was pinned between Jowd and Alma. Jowd’s heart thudded in his ears and he couldn’t think of a time he was gladder to hear it.

There was a groan and a thump. He dragged his head up from Jowd in time to see Sissel, now human, on his knees clutching at his head.

“The world,” he gasped. “It’s in so much pain.” He wavered and for a moment Cabanela was certain he saw the cat instead, then back to human. He was struggling to keep a shape. With the magic rippling over his own skin, maybe this was only expected.

“It’s breaking,” Sissel said, his eyes wide.

Memry’s voice cut through the air. “I’ve lost control!”

“The engines!” Kamila burst out from the stairs down. “Something’s really wrong!”

An ominous creaking that seemed all the louder against the distant roar of the continent breaking apart behind them filled Cabanela’s ears and he saw the more immediate threat in a crack forming across the wooden deck. He thrust himself from Jowd, staggering as he took to his feet and threw himself at Kamila.

“Uncle Cabs! No, don’t!”

He caught hold of her and spun, half throwing, half pushing her back toward Jowd and Alma. Alma caught her, but Jowd was running forward.

“Cabanela!” He launched himself at Cabanela and slammed into him. They rolled across the deck. A loud grinding crack filled their ears.

Cabanela lay gasping again for air and half stunned under Jowd. It was the naked horror in Jowd’s voice that snapped him back to reality as Jowd slid off him.

“No.”

Cabanela struggled to sit up against the air rushing past them and the pained protests of every muscle. And horror filled his vision. They’d broken away from the rest of the ship. They were plummeting fast and as he stared another piece of the ship fell away and he could only pray no one fell with it. 

Jowd laughed, a choked sound. “And so we all fall. He was right.”

“It’s not… over yet. We—” The deck slipped out from Cabanela.

There was nothing beneath him. Then he jerked to a stop and hung, wind buffeting him. Jowd’s hand was firmly clenched around his. Cabanela tried to focus on his face above through stinging eyes and swimming vision. If he could just move his other arm, reach up, help a little here. He was so heavy, so tired…

“Hold on,” Jowd growled.

He was trying, honest. They fell, but they had to stick together. That was… important. He finally found Jowd again. He had to bring them back together. That was… the whole point. Then he saw it. One of the support beams for the propeller cracked and the propeller itself teetered dangerously.

Right into Jowd’s path.

“Look out!” Cabanela tried to call and the wind snatched at his voice. Had Jowd even heard him? No time. He let off a small spark into Jowd’s hand.

Jowd jerked back reflexively at the shock and Cabanela had a brief glimpse of the propeller crashing over the spot Jowd had been a mere second before. And then Jowd was out of sight as he fell.

“Sorry baby…”

Parted again. It was over; they lost. The ocean rose to meet him.

The world ended.


	2. Chapter 2

_There was Jowd’s cell at last. He stopped short and stared at the empty room. Where was he? Did they move him? Was he too late? The floor buckled and cracked tumbling him into darkness. He fell. Always falling, always too late._

_“Wake up.”_

_He was in a small stone room, may as well have been a cell. He sat up. Did he feel any different? Should he? There was a warmth. Lightning sparked off his fingers and danced harmlessly off the walls._

_The disembodied voice spoke again. “Good. Let us begin.”_

_He slowly grinned. Magic._

_“So you’ve done it.” Both Jowd and Alma wore similar looks of concern as they did before he left. How much had they argued about it? He had this. It was going to be fine, better than fine! There was no need to worry. He’d show them._

_He’d show them…_

_The light was bright and hotter than expected on stage. The audience was a faceless crowd. Only one was here and he tried to seek her out while he sang to them both._

_“Amor mio, caro bene…”_

_His love hadn’t changed. He’d bring them together. They would be reunited and he would stay or step away as they wished._

_“Giurasti un amor, che mai non dovea avere fine per noi.”_

_He could fade if they desired… but his love never had._

_Where were they?_

_His words wavered, spiralling away into the darkness._

_“Per sempre…”_

_White filled his vision._

_“…ognor…”_

_The words whispered, dying away into silence. His voice failed at the last._

_“It was all a lie.”_

_She was there, tall, proud and distant. So far away now._

_“I should have known.”_

_So should he. What was a puppet to say?_

_“What is a puppet to dooo? Shall we burn them all down?”_

_A hand raised. Lightning bolts rained. Screams._

_“Well dooone.”_

_Nothing. An empty void._

_“Wake up.” Jowd’s face floated above and looked far too amused. “I think we overdid it even for him.”_

_He sat up with a small gentle tug to that oh so tempting beard. “Nonsense baby. Sooomeone here is just too comfy.”_

_“Hm, I suppose we’ll have to leave you in your rooms next time.”_

_“Something to take into consideration, certainly,” Alma said from behind and while he couldn’t see her he could easily imagine the teasing sparkle in her eyes to accompany that tone._

_There were any number of retorts he was certain he could give if he could stop staring at Jowd’s looovely eyes for one moment and Alma’s hands were playing at his shoulders in an entirely distracting manner. Cheaters._

_Oh well, there was a day to get on with and he reluctantly pulled away to stand at the mirror and tidy up. A blank white mask faced him. He was frozen as hands came around to frame his face and a voice whispered in his ear._

_“Nooow you are nothing.”_

_Nothing. A traitor to all sides. A discarded puppet to be thrown aside. Faces lost beyond a mask._

_His sword flashed as he arced down to that abominable mask and the face underneath. The cause of their torment. He was here for them. This time he would succeed. This time they would be together at last._

_This time… so tired… this time… he couldn’t move… this time. This time._

_What was time to the void?_

_A hand outstretched. A hand gripping his own and there was Jowd. Jowd caught him, but he had never been able to save him in return._

_They caught him. They waited. They were there._

_He couldn’t keep them waiting._

Cabanela dragged his eyes open. Why were they so heavy? A blank expanse swam above. Where…? Turning his head was a slow and ponderous affair. The sight he was met with was worse. His breath caught as he tried to call out a warning and nothing came.

Jowd. The Jester. Jowd stood before him, shoulders slumped and head bowed. The Jester had caught up; they hadn’t escaped at all. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. He struggled to reach for his temples, his hands dead weight. Crowned again—it had to be yet… he was aware?

Another nightmare. But if he had any awareness he could fight back. Clenching his eyes closed, he tried to reach for some ounce of magic and found nothing. Drained, he’d never felt so drained, not even after the first time he woke from his enslavement.

Another question pierced him and his eyes flew open. What had he done this time?

The Jester was gone. Only Jowd stood alone, unmoving as if the Jester had never been there.

Cabanela tried again to speak and his voice was a hoarse rasp to his ears. “Jowd…”

Jowd’s head snapped up and they stared at each other for a moment before he came to what Cabanela now realized was his bedside.

“So you woke after all. Sorry you had to.”

Something there made no sense, but there were more pressing concerns. “The Jester.” Another breath. Why was talking so difficult? “Where did he go?”

Jowd shrugged.

“We have… to be ready. If he comes back…”

Now he laughed. “I can’t imagine he’ll be coming here.”

“He was there.” Why was Jowd so unconcerned about this? 

“Just a figment. I doubt he’ll ever bother with us here. He likes his toys pristine after all. No use for the trash.”

Cabanela stared. The Jester had been there. Had it just been another dream? Maybe he was still dreaming. His head swam. The Jester and trash—none of it made any sense.

“Jowd…”

“Maybe this will help” Jowd held a paintbrush. With a few rapid strokes Cabanela saw himself reappear. No, not him, the Jester. Cabanela bit back the urge to blast him.

“How?” he breathed out.

Jowd looked between the pair. His mouth quirked in a smile that looked too bitter to be sincere and he dashed a hand through the image dissolving it. “Not much else to do here. I had an encounter a while back, picked up a few things.”

“That’s more than a ‘few things’, baby,” Cabanela said faintly. Magic? It wasn’t like any he’d seen before. And when? After the professor saved him? Before the strange continent? The continent…

Cabanela struggled to sit up and only succeeded in pushing himself a little further up his pillow. Why wouldn’t his body _listen_ to him? And more importantly, “The others? What happened? Where are we?”

Jowd shrugged. “Hell or close enough as to not matter. The others are gone.”

No! Cabanela jerked from the pillow. Get _up._ Do something and he tumbled out of the bed in a tangle of limbs and blanket. With shaking arms he tried to push himself up and only succeeded in slumping over the floor.

“Dammit… why?”

Jowd turned him over to cradle his shoulders in one arm. His expression remained mild as he looked down at him. “It shouldn’t be a surprise. It’s been a year.”

“What?!” A bad joke on Jowd’s part. He struggled to pull away from what was clearly nonsense and only succeeded in sagging deeper into Jowd’s arm. Jowd’s hand tightened more securely around his shoulder and he let himself go limp in his hold. A year. That couldn’t be. Not again. The fear that left him frozen on the parapets and pacing his old rooms and the fear that gathered with every story he heard twisted his gut.

His voice shook. “What have I been doing?”

Jowd raised an eyebrow. “Sleeping. Then you woke up. I suppose your luck had to run out eventually.”

Asleep… that was better than the alternative, however… “I’ve been out for a _year_?” _I left you for_ another _year?”_

“More or less. Time stops meaning much after a while. You get used to it.”

A whole year… “All this time. You haven’t found anyone else?” There had to be someone. Something good had to come of this.

“We’re alone here. Just us on a small island. Maybe the last one around.”

Cabanela slowly shook his head. “They have to be out there. We survived it. They did too.”

“Even if they had who’s to say they remained? There was a man here, but after a while he decided he had enough and made his own way. Smart fellow.”

“A boat…?”

Jowd gave him an odd smile. It was almost sympathetic in a way. “The cliffs.”

Cabanela dropped his gaze. No more needed to be said there. Everything sounded like another nightmare, but felt too real to be one no matter how nonsensical it all was.

Jowd lifted him with seeming ease, stood and returned him to the bed leaving him propped against the headboard and pillow.

“It’s around dinner I’d say.” And then he left.

Cabanela watched his retreating back until he disappeared through another door. He dragged a slow hand down his face and cringed at the feel of a beard there. If he couldn’t believe Jowd there was proof of time’s passing right there. And Jowd… “Trash,” he had said. That seeming passivity and acceptance of all this. What happened to him? Always a tendency toward the morbid maybe, and a questionable humour, but that… that wasn’t the king he knew.

Five years with that monster. He clenched a fist, fingers slow and stiff. Another year alone while he slept uselessly. They were supposed to be reunited. For a shining moment they had been.

And it all fell down…

That was really a year ago? He turned his head to the window. It was hard to make out much from here. It looked dark outside. Where were the others? Jowd was wrong. They all had to be out there. They survived. They wouldn’t have given up.

Dragging his gaze away from the window he turned his attention to the rest of the room. There was what looked like a hearth and a chair in front. A table and another chair stood nearby. It was a small place, simple and impersonal; they’d really been here for a year?

Where were they…?

And what of the Jester? A mere… painting. Jowd’s creation somehow and there was too much to think about there for his muddled thoughts. What of the real thing?

_Standing, surrounded by the statues, arms out and laughing with child-like glee. “Such pooower!”_

It would be so simple to think he hadn’t survived the statues’ onslaught. The pit in his stomach told him otherwise. He had been exactly where he wanted; of course he was. All according to plan. The copy victorious over the puppet.

Cabanela took a slow breath and managed to inch himself a little further up the headboard. It wasn’t much, but he was a little more upright. He had to get over this. They had to find a way off this island, regardless of what Jowd said, and find the others. Simple. Logical.

Jowd re-entered, bearing a steaming mug which he passed to him.

“You’d better get used to fish.”

Cabanela clasped the mug in an effort to stop the tremble in his hands and gave the thin watery liquid within a look of distaste. He turned his attention back to Jowd—a much better sight.

“What do you meaaan?”

“It’s what we’ve got. Everything else has rotted, but the fish don’t seem to mind. Unless you want to attempt some of the monsters,” he added as an afterthought and shrugged. “They look pretty toxic, but there are a few around now and then. Could be worth a try.”

“Think I’ll pass, baby,” Cabanela said, eyeing Jowd with a rising note of worry. They did need to get off this place before poisonous monster meat looked appealing. “What happened to everything else?”

“I told you. It rotted away since that day. Or maybe we really did fall in hell. It makes no difference in the end.”

“It’s breaking…” Cabanela muttered. That’s what Sissel had said. Goddesses what had he done? “When the statues went out of alignment…”

“The Jester got himself a new world. You’ll see tomorrow.”

He took a cautious sip of the soup, wincing as the mug rattled against his teeth. The weak fishy taste and not much else left a lot to be desired, but the warmth was welcome.

“It’s not over yet. We’ll go. We’ll find them.”

“You’re assuming there’s anyone to find.”

“Of course there is,” Cabanela said with attempted brightness. “Alma’s waitin’ for us and so is Kamila. Lynne and Missile.” His attempt faltered. “D—The professor…” He’d caught a glimpse of him on the airship in all the chaos. It had been so long. He owed him so much.

Jowd’s expression tightened and his shoulders hunched. His mouth opened then he shook his head and retreated to the table.

They were alive… Jowd had to see that too. He would. He would make certain of it.

Cabanela drank what he could stomach of the soup and only when he finished did Jowd come back to wordlessly take the mug. Cabanela caught hold of his hand as he took it.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Jowd’s mouth twisted in a mocking sort of smile. “That makes one of us! Haha.”

Cabanela tightened his grip. “I mean it. I missed you. It’s been too long.”

“A few years. It makes no difference after a while.”

“My King…” He wasn’t sure if even he could say everything he felt with those two simple words: love, pain, longing, apologies all rolled into one.

Jowd simply shook his head and pulled his hand away with a wry smile. “I’m no king, save of nothing perhaps.” He chuckled. “Yeah, that’s fitting.”

And Cabanela once more found himself faced with Jowd’s back as he left the room without another word. He let his hand fall limply back to the bed. Sleep crept at the edges of his awareness which seemed distinctly unfair after a year.

He stared at the ceiling, willing his eyes to remain open. Who was to say he’d wake up after a simple night and not a year from now? Or two? Five? What would he wake to next time? What would become of Jowd? He was so distant already…

He had to get his strength back. He had to be ready. He had to get Jowd off this island and back into the world. Back to Alma and Kamila. This time he would fulfil his promise to bring them back together.

Despite his best efforts and fears his body continued to make its own decisions and sleep overtook him. He woke briefly at some late unknowable hour and turned his head. Jowd was there, a comforting shape in the fire-lit darkness. He stared in silence, taking in the shadows flickering over him and the light dancing off him. For the moment it was only them and the fire’s warmth. They were safe… He drifted back to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Cabanela woke to a dim room. He stared at nothing while, what he could only assume and hope was the previous day, caught up. It wasn’t dark, so it wasn’t night anymore, but when was it? Squinting out the window gave him a red-orange sky. Sunrise? Or had he slept through the entire day to another sunset? Looking the other way, he saw Jowd sitting at the table eating.

“Good mooornin’?” he tried.

Jowd looked up at that. “If you’d like.”

Not entirely helpful. Direct approach then. “Is it morning?”

“Yeah.”

Which meant it was time to get up. He’d failed before, but that was yesterday and now he’d had some real sleep. Just take it slow, swing legs over the side of the bed, cling to the bed post—goddesses, why was this so hard—take a small step while still clinging, balance and… Release. His knees crashed to the floor.

There was a scrape of wood and when he looked up Jowd stood over him. Without comment he lifted him and sat him on the edge of the bed, seeming to ignore Cabanela’s scowl. It was one thing to have Jowd here—a very wonderful thing—it was quite another to be placed around like a doll and he backed away from that thought with an inward shudder.

“I’m not stayin’ in bed all day,” Cabanela said.

“The floor _is_ spacious,” Jowd replied mildly.

He ignored the comment and hating the need to do so, asked, “Help me to the table, baby?”

Jowd raised an eyebrow. “That’s new.”

But he took Cabanela’s arm around his shoulders. It was agonizingly slow progress even with Jowd’s help, but with slow hobbling steps and the knowledge Jowd was doing more of the work here, they made it to the table and Cabanela slid into the seat. Jowd passed him a second plate of fish and took the seat opposite.

Cabanela’s attention was split between his breakfast and Jowd. Truthfully he’d rather not pay any attention to the bland food (no offence to Jowd), but the intermittent tremors in his hands and navigating the new-found beard (that had to go; his hands’ current state wasn’t going to make that easy either) made it necessary. Jowd was a much better sight. While this wasn’t the reunion he imagined by any stretch he was here, and he wouldn’t trade anything, except to have Alma here as well, for this moment right here right now.

Such moments couldn’t last forever. Jowd rose first and Cabanela followed suit, gripping the table for support.

“You should stay,” Jowd said shortly.

Cabanela glanced toward the door and another wavering wobbling step had him grasping for the table.

“As said,” Jowd added so very helpfully.

“I want to see outside.” It felt petulant as soon as the words left his mouth, but it was true. He wanted, no needed, to see what their world really was beyond Jowd’s vague descriptions of ‘hell’. What it had become.

“I doubt it,” Jowd said with a shrug though it didn’t stop him from offering Cabanela his arm again.

Cabanela suppressed an urge to cling and only hold on as much as needed for the support. Most of his attention was required for getting his legs to listen to him anyway even if he’d much rather turn it to Jowd.

There were other things to occupy him once that second slow journey was completed and Jowd opened the door to the world outside. Cabanela gripped the door frame and stared, taking in the dry cracked earth before him, the few tufts of browned grass, the bare trees like winter, and above, skies red and orange like the sunset he thought it might have been. There was a large patch of dirt nearby and withered stalks of… whatever had grown there. Even the air seemed off somehow with a chill bite to it, but something stagnant. Maybe Jowd hadn’t been entirely far off after all.

“You’ve been livin’ with this?” he asked. _This is what we—he did?_

“It took time to reach this point,” Jowd replied casually as if that was any better.

Cabanela let out a slow breath and, balancing against the wall, stepped back inside to lean against that wall. This changed nothing. It perhaps complicated some matters, but Jowd had survived this long. They simply had to keep going.

“I’ll be back,” Jowd said and stepped out closing the door behind him before Cabanela could question him.

Alone now and in the emptiness of the room the weakness he’d tried, unsuccessfully with how much he’d had to lean on Jowd, to contain came out in force and he slid down the wall to the floor feeling much like he had in that small room under Lynne’s anxious gaze or when he woke in the dark cell, disoriented and burning with one goal and no awareness of what he’d lost.

He scraped a hand down his face, grimacing again at the feel of the beard there. He felt. Tired. Tired and old and it was all wrong. How many times would he have to suffer waking to a body that felt like a stranger’s? He muttered a cure spell that brought only a passing relief to the ache coursing through his muscles and did nothing for the weakness there.

The table and chairs were only a few steps away, the hearth a few more than that and even those distances were unfairly daunting. But he wasn’t about to stay trapped on the damn floor. He gave himself a few minutes more and then braced himself against the wall and slowly pushed himself up. With that step out of the way now came the hard part.

Slow and stiff shuffling steps brought him close to the table when he stumbled. He caught himself on the chair and slumped into it. Wrong, wrong, wrong, but he’d made it which was more than could be said for his earlier morning’s efforts in leaving the bed. Dragging a chair to the fireplace was another matter entirely. Instead he focused on the hearth with a word and fire burst up licking merrily at the wood. At least his magic remained unchanged.

And so the days crawled on, frustrating and exhausting. Jowd fashioned him a rough-hewn cane out of a chunk of wood. The support helped. The thought helped. Jowd himself was… distant. If he fell Jowd was there at his side while he swallowed an ever growing knot of bitter anger at his state, the state of the world, and everything between. But otherwise Jowd seemed elsewhere no matter how Cabanela chatted at him or wove tales of their possible futures or spoke of hope and various plans to get off this blasted island. All fell on deaf-seeming ears.

The place was so dreary, so dead. If they could get off it that alone had to bring improvement. And once they were moving they could find Alma and Kamila; Jowd would get his family back in place and just maybe a little of himself back as well. Easier said than done as his own body continually betrayed him.

There was a table and small mirror against one wall. Cabanela avoided it. Anything he saw would make him want to take care of things _now_ and he was still too clumsy—clumsy! it was intolerable—to risk it yet. He couldn’t bring himself to ask Jowd for help there; the man had had to do too much as was keeping him alive and some things were best done himself and there was… a barrier between them that refused to crack. It was more than time, Cabanela knew, and took only a small comfort in that he hadn’t seen him paint the Jester again with that strange new power. He was just as likely to burn a hole through the floor at that sight as not as he wrestled with his own moods.

He was happy that Jowd was here. How could he not be? He wasn’t the man he once knew, withdrawn and dark, but could he expect anything else? He was still Jowd. Cabanela just simply hadn’t realized it was possible to miss someone you saw every day. But it would be well.

It would be well.

Each passing day brought some improvements to him if not to Jowd. He could go a little further each time, lean a little less heavily on the cane. When the day came he knew he could trust his hands and bring about another improvement he whisked a chair from the table to the mirror and Jowd left the room.

It wasn’t the first time he had to brace himself against whatever the mirror had to show him and he wondered if it would be better or worse than his return to Figaro. He repeatedly felt like a stranger in his body; he didn’t expect to look so much like one as he met his own sunken eyes. The beard was terrible, too long, not especially well-kept and flecks of grey threaded throughout. He’d felt old, he wasn’t supposed to _look_ it. His hair wasn’t any better long lost from its normal styling despite a few blind attempts to put it back into some kind of shape, and in dire need of a trim.

He was a mess, like his life had become, crept up the small thought and the mirror received a hard frown. It was going to get better. Starting now and he only hesitated briefly when his hand closed around the razor, belonging to the former owner of the cottage, but what choice was there? Work with what they had and he set to it.

It was a slow methodical process and there was a welcome meditative quality to it as the rest of the world and his worries fell away. This was now, this was one thing he could do. This was control. One more step to feeling like himself again.

It was only as he combed through his newly-trimmed hair and tied it back again he realized he was avoiding his own eyes and forced his gaze back to the mirror. This was reclamation. His face, _his_ face. Still too thin, too tired, too sickly (decidedly wrong), but _his._

He leaned back in the chair, taking stock until he heard the door open and he rose in one attempted fluid motion, a little stiff from how long he’d been sitting, but a step in the right direction.

Jowd froze.

“Weeell, baby?”

“I need to go fishing,” Jowd said flatly and abruptly turned back to the door, shoulders hunching, and was gone as quickly as he’d come.

Cabanela stared at the empty space Jowd had been and forced his hands to unclench before he turned back to the table to clear everything away. He wasn’t _him_. Jowd would have to learn that. He wasn’t going to hide and Jowd would have to get used to that too. He wasn’t him, the thought repeated while he tidied everything up and avoided the mirror.

Cabanela didn’t see Jowd the rest of the day until dinner. The meal was a sullen affair of fish roasted over a fire. Jowd ate steadily and silently. Cabanela poked disconsolately at his plate, but forced himself to eat knowing he’d only feel worse without. He had to rebuild his strength more than ever.

“We need to start thinkin’ of a way off this rock,” Cabanela finally tried.

“Mm.”

“There’s pleeenty of wood still around.”

“So there is.”

“Between the two of us we can figure out somethin’.” All right, so his own skills in construction were utterly lacking but how hard could a raft be? Learn as you go, nothing like it!

“Maybe.”

“Talk to me baby. Is there anything I can do to make this easier?”

Jowd did look up at that, his mouth quirking and Cabanela got the impression he was missing some inner joke. “You? No. You’re fine.” With that he rose, gathered their empty plates and left again.

Alone again. Nothing new there. Cabanela’s fingers drummed against the table. Never mind that. There were logistics to work out. A raft was one thing. Supplies could prove more difficult in some ways. How far away was the mainland? No way to know for sure.

He sat alone, lost in thought and possible plans until the darkness grew and his uneasiness with it. Where was Jowd? Enough waiting.

Cabanela stepped outside into the chill night air. It was so dark and he could only barely make out a few faint lights of the stars, weak and distant in a way they’d never felt before. He returned his attention to the earth around him and his eyes caught on a flash of white and an orange-y glow in the distance.

When he moved toward it his chest tightened. Again. Would they ever break free of his shadow? Jowd stood before him, and for a moment he wanted to think it was him, but no, Jowd’s choice fell on the Jester once more and between them there was a small fire wreathing them in a soft glow and shadows.

“You always have to win,” Jowd said.

“He hasn’t _won_ anything,” Cabanela said flatly, stepping up beside the figure and he idly noticed he felt no warmth from the flame, no wood to fuel it, and it burned in silence. Another trick of Jowd’s? He’d have to ask later. “He’s not here. I am.”

Jowd looked between the pair and Cabanela felt another swell of bitterness as he followed his gaze. He wasn’t here, but he looked more like he did in what felt like a lifetime ago than he did now, standing tall and proud and undamaged.

“He doesn’t need to be here. The damage is done. How has he not won?”

“We’re still here. We can still fight.”

“Against what? For what? They’re gone.”

“They’re still there,” Cabanela said fiercely. “We will find them. He hasn’t broken us. He won’t.”

Jowd laughed, a sudden sharp sound in the quiet dark. The Jester and the fire disappeared. “That’s quite a statement coming from you, but you’ve always been stubborn.”

“It’s the truth.” Damaged maybe. Broken never. Not him, not Jowd. He wouldn’t allow it. “We’ve stayed too long. We have to go.”

“Go…” Jowd’s shape shifted closer and the dark amusement in his voice changed to something serious. “Are you ready to?”

“Baby, I’ve been reeeady since I woke.” It wasn’t _his_ fault his body had other ideas, traitorous thing.

Jowd chuckled and his voice regained the sardonic edge. “Well, I wouldn’t dream of holding you back.” He clapped Cabanela on the shoulder, his hand a warm and welcome weight. “You’re right. It is time.”


	4. Chapter 4

Cabanela wanted and fully intended to stay awake longer, to keep speaking with Jowd and to plan in more detail. To shake away a vague sense of unease he couldn’t place. It should have been easy enough; he didn’t _need_ all that much sleep, but that was one more thing that had been stripped from him as he’d discovered how quickly he tired the past several days. He convinced himself it was getting easier again as time went on; clearly not enough yet.

He woke to the dim lighting that probably meant morning and was simpler to assume it was. Easing himself off the bed, he skimmed the room—no sign of Jowd—could be that he’d gone to catch more fish for another sterling breakfast. Just one more reason to get off this rock.

Plans for the day lined up as he paced a circle round the room, working out any stiffness. It was going to be a busy day; start slow, be ready. A paper on the table caught his attention on his return circuit and he approached it curiously. It wasn’t like Jowd to bother with such niceties as notes, yet that’s exactly what it appeared to be as he lifted it to read.

_You’re right, there was plenty of wood. Check for a door behind the bookcase. You’ll find your raft below. It’s time to fly free._

_Good bye Cabanela._

The note slipped from suddenly nerveless fingers. Good bye? _Good bye?_ No. _“I wouldn’t dream of holding you back.”_ He wouldn’t.

_“There was a man here, but after a while he decided he had enough and made his own way. Smart fellow.”_

_“A boat…?”_

_“The cliffs.”_

Jowd wouldn’t, he couldn’t.

_Trash._

Cabanela turned and bolted from the room. Several steps from the door he stopped in uncertainty. The cliffs. Was it too late? When did he go? How long had he been asleep? Was he too late? But this was Jowd, once he made up his mind he would see his decision through, make certain it would work. A wave of nausea swept through him and he ran for the beach.

The sound of the waves reached him through his own ragged breath. Everything else was silence. Cabanela frantically scanned the beach and saw nothing but sand and rock. Jowd had to be here. He couldn’t just be… gone. He searched further out until his breath caught. There was a shape floating further out. Without a second thought he ran into the water, stumbling over pebbles and unexpected dips. The water was icy against his legs; he ignored it.

The water grew deeper until he had to swim. It was Jowd out there. His mind went blank against the fears of what state he might find him in. Not far now. Keep swimming against the tug of water at his clothing.

Jowd floated on his back, gently rocked by the waves. Cabanela almost went under in relief. He breathed. He was breathing; he was alive.

“Jowd!”

Jowd’s eyes were open, fixed on the sky in an empty stare. Cabanela might have believed him dead, if it wasn’t for the reassuring rise and fall of his chest.

“Jowd?” he nudged him. “Come on baby, work with me.” Cabanela looked between him and the shore. It hadn’t really been a long swim. Careful to keep them both afloat he gripped Jowd’s shoulder and cast a cure spell. If it had an effect it did nothing to bring him back to earth. 

So be it. He would drag him back if he had to. …Or push as he quickly discovered that while he himself was a good swimmer, adding Jowd’s bulk to it wasn’t going to work. So he pushed. And stopped repeatedly to cling to Jowd and catch his breath and ignore the building ache in his muscles and the deepening numbing chill. Just a little further. Once he could get his feet under him it would be easier. Just a little further, just a little more until the ground rose to meet them and he stood and got his hands under Jowd’s arms and heaved.

It wasn’t any easier. One small strained step. Another. And he pulled too hard. His foot slipped over smooth stone and he fell back, choked on water as it closed over his face, lost what little breath he had at the impact. He lay in a blind panic struggling not to breathe, struggling to move. Falling, falling, failing…

Something grabbed the front of his shirt and he was hauled up. He gasped for air, cold and sharp in his throat, coughed, and retched up water. Sat, shook, struggled to get his breath back under control. And when the water and spots cleared from his vision and breath came easier he felt the weight at his back and saw Jowd kneeling beside him, supporting him.

“There you are,” Cabanela wheezed.

Jowd’s gaze turned downward and he didn’t respond.

“We need to get to shore,” Cabanela said.

Jowd still didn’t respond, but he rose mechanically in a cascade of water and easily lifted Cabanela to his feet. Supporting each other, they staggered back to the shore and didn’t stop until they hit dry land where they dropped. Jowd stared out at the horizon and finally spoke.

“There really is no escape from here.”

Cabanela fought against the shudder in his voice. “That was no escape. What were you _thinking_?”

“It was time to go. I told you I wouldn’t hold you back.”

“Hold me _back_?” Cabanela demanded. He shook, with rage or fear or cold, he couldn’t say. “I didn’t spend years of my life on you for you to throw yourself away!”

“Yes, my mistake. I forgot you can’t let your toys go to waste.”

While the punch lacked the strength it could have had, Jowd’s head still snapped back and a tiny trickle of blood ran from his nose. He blinked owlishly before wiping the blood away with his hand. He stared at it. Then he started to laugh, long and hard, and Cabanela shivered at the strangeness of it and the overwhelming relief of the sound over the lonely silence of the waves.

“Ahh, nothing can be so simple,” Jowd said when his laughter finally subsided. “I should have known.”

“It can be,” Cabanela said and took both Jowd’s shoulders, fingers clenching stiffly into the sodden fabric. He cast another cure—heal the damage he caused, heal anything left from the fall. Bring Jowd back to him.

Jowd shook his head. “You should have left it, ha, like me.” 

Cabanela tried to meet his gaze. “That’s not happenin’.”

“Can’t leave me alone, can you?”

“No.”

Jowd looked back at the ocean. “More’s the pity.”

Cabanela abruptly stood, averting his own gaze from what or who he might see in Jowd’s eyes. “We need to go back to the cottage. Warm up.”

“I suppose,” and Jowd rose as well.

Cabanela kept Jowd a step ahead of him—keep him in his sight until they were back. Inside, he flung fire into the hearth with a short order at Jowd to change, while he pulled the chairs over to the fireplace. Jowd complied silently and took a seat when finished, folding his arms over his chest and going still.

Only then did Cabanela see to his own clothing and when he finally sat he sagged into the chair, clenching his hands against his shivering as the adrenaline wore away and the fire’s warmth cut through the numb chill.

His glance flicked between Jowd and the fire, reminding himself he was still there. It had come that close. The signs were there. Jowd had practically admitted as much and he, Cabanela, missed it all. Hadn’t even conceived such a notion. Another mistake that nearly cost Jowd his life. It couldn’t be allowed to happen again. It wouldn’t. He would have to watch him closely. It was a fine idea until his body had other plans.

They sat in silence for a time until exhaustion won out. When Cabanela woke there was a chill deep in his bones, though the fire was warm. Jowd stood with Alma, his hand hovering over her cheek. There was little Kamila looking up at them, a smile on her face. Cabanela sunk deeper into the chair. Home…

Then his eyes snapped open, a minute later? Longer? He couldn’t be sure. It didn’t matter; any time was too much. Panic and anger flooded him. He had to stay awake! He had to watch over Jowd! His fears were unfounded this time; Jowd was there sitting back down as Cabanela watched, shoulders rounded and arms folded back over his chest. Still here… and so very alone.

“We will find them,” Cabanela said while he forced himself to sit up straighter. His back and shoulders protested the movement, but they had no say here.

“You keep saying that. You assume they’re alive to be found.”

“They are.”

“You can’t know that.”

No, he couldn’t, however, “They have to be. Or what’s the point?” To go through all of this only to have them dead? No.

“The point? This isn’t,” Jowd’s mouth twisted in bitter amusement. “This isn’t one of your operas. The world doesn’t work like that.”

Cabanela thrust himself from the seat, covering the short distance between them despite his legs also joining painfully in the protest. “Then we make it work!”

Jowd smiled. “Yes of course. That’s your way, isn’t it? Bend all to your will.”

“That’s not—.”

“You can only win. Anything else is unacceptable. Claim your trophies along the way.”

“Trophies…?—my family!” Cabanela burst out. “ _Your_ family. I’m not _him_.” He spun away from Jowd to face the fire. “And once I thought… our family…” he whispered. “I’m not him. We destroyed the world… Destroyed what we—they have to be alive. If they’re not I…” He thought of the blind panic driving him to the beach. Of empty shores. Sinking into the ocean’s depths, falling from a crumbling airship, to nothingness…

The creak of Jowd’s chair was deafening as Cabanela swayed. Jowd’s hand landed on his shoulder and his voice was low and strangely gentle.

“The cliffs start to look tempting, don’t they?”

Cabanela shuddered. His hand rose to his mouth. His legs gave up a final protest and buckled. Jowd caught him as he fell and guided him to the floor. Cabanela clung to his shirt and bowed his head against his chest.

“I can’t. You can’t… I need you.”

Jowd snorted even as his arm wrapped more securely around Cabanela. “You don’t need me or any of this. You were supposed to go, follow your plans to whatever end they may bring.”

Cabanela jerked his head up. “What plans? I have no idea where Alma is if she’s even alive. Kamila was supposed to be safe and she may be dead. I haven’t seen dad in years. Years! I couldn’t save _you_ in all that time! I finally got to see you again and I left you for another year. I don’t know this world. I don’t even know this wreck of a body of mine anymore. I’m only alive because of you and you tried to throw yourself away. We can stay and rot or we can go, possibly straight to our deaths.” He took a sharp breath. Everything hurt; he was so tired and the words were a heavy choking weight in his throat. Tears ran hot on his cheeks. “He broke you. He broke us. I don’t know what to do.”

Jowd tipped Cabanela’s chin up and stared wonderingly. “The whole world’s turned upside down. You have changed.”

Cabanela stared at him through blurred eyes and found nothing to say. What more could he say? Jowd was here yet so far away. Over five, no, six years, and the gulf felt wider than ever.

Jowd wasn’t done, though his words came haltingly. “I… know you’re not him. I try to see it. It… was easier when you slept. Neither of you would stay down for so long yet there you were. I started to think you never would wake. I envied you.”

“It would’ve been easier, wouldn’t it?” Cabanela said thickly. That was it, wasn’t it? “If everyone’s gone you don’t have to stay. You want to go and I can’t let you. I won’t. If that’s a point we share so be it.”

“His treasured garbage. What use could you have for his leftovers?”

“Or you his slave,” Cabanela countered.

Jowd’s teeth bared. “You’re not.”

He wanted to hold Jowd tight. He wanted to pull away. He wanted the tears to stop. The pain to end. Instead he was frozen, his hands clenching painfully tight to Jowd’s shirt. “My king,” he breathed. “It’s not who _we_ are.”

“King,” Jowd scoffed. He sagged and pulled Cabanela closer, bringing his head down to his shoulder. “You deserve more than this.”

Cabanela buried his face deeper into Jowd’s shoulder and his eyes squeezed tight against more tears. Why wouldn’t they stop? “That’s not what I want.”

“You never made much sense.”

It wasn’t his fault Jowd couldn’t see it, but he found himself too drained to say anything. Everything was so wrong and he could only weep while Jowd’s hand rubbed his back.

“Stay or go,” Jowd mused after a time. “It may make no difference in the end. It’ll be a change of scenery anyway.”

Cabanela caught his breath with a cough, pulled back from Jowd’s shoulder and Jowd released his hold. “We have to try.”

Jowd shrugged. “May as well.”

Cabanela sighed. ‘May as well’. Is that all they had left to them? He turned away intending to push himself back up if his limbs would cooperate. Jowd’s arms circled back around him and pulled him to his chest instead.

“You’re still cold,” he rumbled.

Cabanela stared into the fire, startled and angry and worried all at once, and not daring to address this new tiniest seed of hope. “Consider that next time. Don’t let there beee a next time.”

Jowd made a low sound in his throat. Whether it was anything more than acknowledgement Cabanela couldn’t say.

Cabanela cautiously let Jowd take on a little more of his weight and met no resistance. He wanted to revel in his hold; he missed this so, so much, but he only felt tired. Tired, tired, tired and sick of it. Even now he felt the exhaustion threatening to pull him back under despite his best efforts and fears.

He sought out one of Jowd’s hands. He came so close… “Stay,” he mumbled and sleep claimed its victory.

There was warmth and a deep ache underlying that. He was tempted to sink back into sleep, escape it all. He couldn’t. Cabanela dragged his eyes open. He was in bed; Jowd must have moved him and with that thought Cabanela immediately sat up, searching the room frantically. It was a needless fear. Jowd sat in one of the chairs by the fire, head bowed over his chest, asleep.

Cabanela rose, waited until he was certain he had his balance, then dragged the blanket over to Jowd to drape it over him. He stared at him. How long had he floated out there? The question was a sick little knot in his stomach. Never again. Nothing like that ever again.

His eyes fell on the bookcase. _Behind the bookcase._ He went to it automatically and discovered it wasn’t hard to push being far lighter than it appeared. Just as promised there was a door behind it and below that…

There was a stairway. Clinging to the wall Cabanela made his slow way down. It was dark at the bottom but he had the sense of a space opening out. He summoned a flame and its flickering light revealed a room littered with the darker shapes of various tools and in the centre of the floor, the raft.

Their escape. When had Jowd made it? At some point he must have thought of leaving over throwing it all aside. Three years he was a prisoner of the Empire. Three years too many and it turned to five. A year alone on this desolate island while he slept uselessly. The damage was plain to see. Could it be undone? Would Jowd allow it? They had to find the others.

Footsteps sounded behind him then Jowd stood at his side.

“And there it is,” he said.

“It’s sizable,” Cabanela said. “If we’re careful how we pack. Maybe those pooowers of yours can be of use.”

“They don’t last for very long, but I suppose it may be an entertaining experiment.”

“You never did tell me how you got them. You owe me a story, baby.”

“I’m not sure how much of a story it is.”

“We’ll need some way to pass the tiiime.”

“I guess we will,” Jowd replied with a dry chuckle. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

A desolate island in a desolate world, but… “We can’t stay any longer. They’re waiting.”

“You really believe it.”

“I have to.”

They’re waiting and when the day came Cabanela and Jowd stood on the beach and the raft was loaded. Cabanela stared at the distant horizon. There was no knowing how far they had to go. There was no knowing where there was to go. It was possible, perhaps even likely, they prepared to sail to their deaths. As long as there was any thread of hope it didn’t matter. It was time.


End file.
